Frisky Foxes

Nights like these always remind me of how lucky I am to have Fox. The Great Fox's lounge is quiet, we're the only ones here. The floor to ceiling window shows a beautiful vista of stars, with the crackling, red and orange mass of Sector Y in the distance. Fox and I are sitting quietly, enjoying the warmth of each other's bodies, sipping at glasses of red wine, a gift from Fara the last time we were on Corneria.

A little hum of contentment escapes my muzzle, and I snuggle up closer to my Foxy-Woxy. Winter is here, at least according to his biological clock, and his fur has started to grow out. He's fluffy and extra warm, something I'm always grateful for. Growing up on Cerinia, with its warm, humid, climate, I never got a winter coat like he has. And out here, in space, I always feel a little cold. Except when he's with me. Then I feel warm. Warm and safe.

He kisses my hair, and I take a sip of my wine, then set the glass on the coffee table in front of us. We're sitting on the old blue couch, a storied piece of furniture, that despite being lumpy and squeaky, both of us refuse to get rid of. When we get our own place on Corneria, I fully intend to put it in the living room, style be damned. This was where Fox and I first bonded, staying up for hours talking after he rescued me, until we fell asleep in each other's arms. It was the first place in the galaxy that had made me feel happy since I lost my world, all those years ago.

I let those thoughts pass. Now isn't the time for melancholy memories. Fox and I are together, husband and wife, and still kicking arse out in the galaxy. Bad guys bane, that's us. Oikonny, Star Wolf, Venom, the SharpClaw, and a dozen others, we're out here taking care of all of them. Corneria helps a little. Mostly by filling our bank accounts. After our last job, I saw my share of the bounty transferred into my account, and I nearly keeled over when I saw the seven figures. Whoever said working for the good guys doesn't pay well was a bald faced liar.

"What are you thinking about?" Fox asks, rubbing his hand across my arm.

"Money. And how I have a lot of it." I smile up at him, then kiss him on the chin. He smiles back.

"What are you planning to spend it on?" he asks.

"Mmm. I don't know." I shrug. "I could always take up high stakes gambling."

"With your telepathy you'd probably be pretty good at it." I can sense he's being serious. I cleaned them all out at poker a few nights ago.

"My, still salty over that, huh?" I smirk at him.

"If we weren't bonded I'd say you were cheating." Fox looks at me, and he has this gruff expression on his face.

My smirk gets more intense. "There's always next week for you."

"Falco and Slippy are both heading to Corneria next week," Fox replies. "It'll be just the two of us."

"Mmm. Then I suggest we up the stakes." I have a wicked little idea in my head. I get a lot of those now. Having a gold ring on our fingers has done nothing to dampen the passion and outright naughtiness between us. I doubt anything could.

"What do you have in mind?" Fox shifts on the couch so he's facing me directly.

I sit up and rest my hands on the cushions, leaning towards him. "Well, there are other things we could bet besides money."

"Such as?" I know he knows where I'm going with this.

"Oh, lots of things." I reach over and hook a claw in the collar of his shirt. I pull him towards me until our muzzles are less than an inch apart. "Clothes, for instance." He's about to reply, something smarmy about the idea of seeing me naked, but I don't let him. Instead, I press my lips against his, and I send him the biggest telepathic invitation I can think of. He growls and wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his soft, fluffy, chest. His tongue presses against my lips, and I let him in, beginning a playful little wrestling match. It goes on for a few...seconds? Minutes? Maybe days? I can never tell. Then he breaks off and looks at me with bedroom eyes. "Oh no." I shake my head. His expression is crestfallen, even a little betrayed. I laugh and tug his shirt up, digging my fingers into his fluffy winter coat, feeling the hard muscles beneath it, and tracing the length of a scar that runs across his left flank. "Right here."

"Here?" His eyes light up, though there's a hint of hesitation. "What if..."

"I'll know," I tell him. "When have I ever let us down in the warning department?"

"Well," Fox scratches the back of his neck. "There was that time in the broom closet on Katt's base." I growl. "And, we got caught once doing it in the locker room outside of the Orbital Gate's hangar bay." I tug his shirt over his head, and he puts his arms up to help me out. His tail is wagging even as mine beats against the cushions. "Oh and..."

"You list one more example," I tell him, growling low in my chest. Half of that growl is frustration, the other half is a lust I've long since given up trying to control, "And you might just ruin this for yourself."

He takes my arms and leans against the arm of the couch, pulling me on top of him. He starts pulling up my own shirt, and I smile down at him. He grins up at me as the garment comes off, then gets tossed to the side, revealing the full, plump, breasts that I know he dreams about during lonely showers. "Message received," he says. Our lips meet again, and I put my hands on his shoulders before running them down to his biceps. I give them a squeeze, even as he reaches up to feel my breasts. I revel in the strength I can feel his arms, the chords and muscle, the power that he has, the way he could carry me across a continent and not break a sweat. I moan into the kiss as he teases my nipples, brushing them and pinching them softly. My tail traces an arc in the air, and I can't help but move my hips, grinding against the tent in his jeans.

The kiss ends and I straighten up, looking down at him with the expression of a hungry, sultry, vixen, who wants nothing more than to take her pleasure from her man. He gives me this lopsided little grin, eagerly soaking in the details of my soft, blue, fur, and the tattoos that spread across my body. I've had more added since we first met. Another priestess swirl on my hands, and a pair of Warrior prints on my chest. Fox thinks those ones just look like big commas.

I reach behind me and undo the coil that my hair has been in. It's grown out quite a bit since we married, part of an old Cerinian tradition. Without the coil it tumbles down to the small of my back, thick and lustrous, with purple highlights in the lighter blue. "How do you like it?" I ask, resting my hands on his chest.

"You know how much I like it," Fox replies, his voice deep and rumbly.

I reach beneath his winter coat and find his nipples, giving them a little squeeze that has him panting in seconds. I lean down, arching my back, then drag my claws down his stomach until they reach the clasp of his jeans. I settle in between his legs, and then undo the buckle and pull down the zipper. He helps me shuck the pants off, and soon he's lying there in nothing but his boxers. Boxers that are doing a poor job of containing my Foxy's length. I nuzzle my nose against it, breathing in the musky scent of his arousal. He whines at me, clearly impatient. I shake my head. "Foxy, what have I told you about being too eager?" He rests his head against the arm of the couch and mutters something mean about me. I grin and plant a kiss on his bulge. I hear the sudden intake of breath, followed by the gasping exhalation as I drag my tongue across it. "Mmhmm. You lie back there big boy. Let me handle this one."

I hook my thumbs into the elastic of his boxer shorts and, a moment later, my Foxy god is fully naked. I take in the view from my position between his legs. He looks so confident. One leg is draped over the top of the couch, the other resting on the floor. His length is proud and long and thick, drooling a bit of pre from the end. His balls are plump and heavy, full of that virile, studly, seed that, one day, goddesses willing, is going to make my belly swell with his offspring. Further up, where his washboard abs usually are, is a sea of downy white fur, rising and falling with his breath. His shoulders, broad and powerful, each with the Star Fox logo tattooed on them, lead up to his neck, and from there his beautiful, handsome face. "Goddesses you're gorgeous," I whisper.

"I try my best," he replies. "I don't wanna lose you."

I smile and narrow my eyes at him. "You'll never lose me."

"Even if I get fat?"

I giggle and plant a little kiss on his balls. "Even then. Dad bods are best bods."

"Gross." Fox sticks his tongue out in revulsion. He's terrified of going soft. I won't lie, I am too. It comes with a warrior upbringing.

That being said, I have more important things to worry about right now. Like the fact that his length is taunting me with its perfection. I reach out and wrap the fingers of my right hand around it, cooing at the warmth and the way it pulses at my touch. Gently, I begin to stroke it, while wrapping my lips around one of his balls, sucking and licking at it, giving them the love and attention they deserve. I know how much my Foxy likes his balls played with. He was adorably shy the first time I found out. Shy, and explosive. Hmmm.

I let that orb fall from my muzzle, glistening with my saliva. My left hand rubs it in, groping and caressing, and tempting him with every ounce of my strength towards release. I've never worried about Foxy going off too soon, the man has rejuvenative powers beyond imagining. Put simply, he's a horny bastard. But then, when I'm alone with him, so am I.

With relish I drag my tongue up his length, then wrap my lips around his tip. I suckle gently, tasting a bit of his salty essence against my taste buds. I sigh happily at that taste, familiar, delicious. The taste of my Fox. Before long I'm bobbing up and down, taking in progressively more of his length with each passing moment. It took me a long time to finally be able to swallow him all, and it still requires careful pacing, but I can do it. My ears perk and swivel at the sound of his moaning. He's unrestrained, voicing his pleasure and approval without embarrassment. We're together, alone, and in the heat of the moment, I know he wouldn't care who was around to hear him sing my praises.

Being here in the lounge, there's a small chance of being walked in on. There's an element of risk. And we've been caught plenty of times. He wasn't making up those instances when he teased me. Somehow I don't care though. As his length fills my muzzle, and as my nose presses against the soft, thick, fur of his crotch, his smell invading my nostrils, I wouldn't care if all of Corneria City walked in and started snapping pictures. We're husband and wife. Warriors bonded through telepathy and combat. We'll go through life together, and when we die, we'll be together in what comes after. There is nothing I could do with him that I would be ashamed of. Trust me, it makes me the life of the party on girls night.

My vision starts to go a little black around the edges. I can hear Fox, his moans of pleasure are laced with concern. I haven't taken a breath in a long time apparently. I can feel tears forming and falling down my cheeks as I suppress my gag reflex, a skill that a certain pink feline once schooled me in using a kitchen vegetable. Finally, Fox has had enough, and he takes me by the ears and lifts me off of his cock. I look at him, this big, dopey, grin on my face, drool hanging between us, and say, "Problem?"

"How? How do you do that?" he asks, getting his breathing under control.

I grin and wipe my muzzle, my hands coming away wet and a little sticky. I reach out and wipe them on his chest. He doesn't protest. "Love," I tell him.

"I guess it does make you do crazy things," Fox says, looking at me with those startling emerald eyes, full of love, lust, and desire. He puts a finger under my chin and tilts it up to meet his muzzle in a soft, tender, kiss. His hands reach down for the sweats I've been wearing, and I feel one of them dive down into them, brushing against my womanhood. He pulls back from the kiss, eyes wide. "No panties."

I grin and stand up on the couch, wobbling a bit as I step on a lump. Then I shuck them down and dive onto him, giggling madly as I kiss him and grind my clit against his cock. He laughs too, and rather than long, passion filled kisses, we devolve into fast, short ones, with licks and heavy breaths. My scent fills the room, and his nose twitches in response. He knows what's up, what I need, what I want more than anything in the world right now. He pushes me away, and I growl and try to press myself forward again. "Foxy, come on."

"Mm mmm." He shakes his head, then turns me around, even as I pretend to put up a fight. "Not yet." He has me on all fours, my tail lifting behind me, showing a glistening, pink, slit, eager for its mate. Maybe he just wants to take me from behind? I'm okay with that. I like that. I wait there, eager to feel his length pressing against me, and instead I gasp at a different, but no less familiar feeling.

"Oh. Oooh." I ball my hands into fists as I feel his warm, wet, tongue drag itself across my folds. His arms wrap around my thighs, and he drags me on top of him. He's beneath me, I can see his ears and that white mohawk of his down between my legs. I grin and let my tongue loll out of my muzzle as I begin to grind against him, happily, eagerly, riding my husband's face. "Oh yessss." His tongue is like heaven, teasing and invading, before pulling back and pressing against my clit, that sensitive little bundle of nerves that is the secret to my heart in a moment like this. I can't resist, I reach up and tug at my own nipples, wondering for a moment what the experience would be like if I ever decided to have them pierced. "Oh Foooxy."

Beneath me I can feel his energy. He loves the taste of my juices, that bittersweet essence meant to ease his passage into me. It dribbles down his muzzle and runs in rivulets down my thighs. My tail swishes across his, rustling his fur, and helping to keep him warm. Not that he needs it, with all that winter fur. "Mmf m hmm huhh mm."

"What?" He's trying to say something. I don't know what. And the pleasure centers of my brain are going so haywire our bond isn't exactly all that clear.

"Mmf m hmm huhh mm," he repeats. His hands have migrated from my thighs, and are grasping at my arse.

"Sorry," I say, grinning as I grind into him a bit more. "I can't hear you."

"Mmf m hmm huhh mm." I can hear the frustration in his voice. It only eggs me on.

I swivel my ears and cock my head. "I'm getting some bad reception," I tell him. "You wouldn't happen to be in a valley of some sort?"

"MMF M HMM HUHH MM."

That's when a little bit of what he means finally manages to get into my brain. "Oh. Sorry." I shift my body so that I'm not sitting on his face anymore, and look down at him.

He licks of chops and says, "I thought I might die there for a second."

"Awww." I beep him on the nose. "I can see the headlines now. Fox McCloud, Dead at Thirty-Two, Death by Suffocation. Weapon: Puss Puss."

Foxy laughs with me and rolls me onto my back. He looks down at me from our change in position, and his face blots out the lights above us, giving him a little halo. He really does look like a god there for a moment. I bite my lip, then say, "Please?"

He grins and kisses me on the nose, and I feel his length press against my entrance. "The lady's wish is my desire."

"You're corny," I tell him.

"Mmhmm." He slides in, nice and smooth, aided by all that lovely juice he's been helping me make. There's no pain, no stretching. We do this often enough that I'm always primed and ready. Our first time though...it was minutes before he could get halfway in without causing me a twinge or two. "And you're horny."

I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down to me. His chest rubs against mine, and our hips start to rock back and forth. I bury my nose in his neck, breathing in his scent, musky with sweat and arousal, but with overtones of the shampoo he uses for his fur, and the deodorant he diligently applies. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

He bites me on the shoulder, a little love nip, right where the scar of his claim is. The scar tingles, a memory of the heavenly pain of his mating bite, that day on Sauria, right before the wedding. "Maybe how wet and wild you're being," he says, kissing my neck.

"Oh. Is that all?" My legs start to close around him, and my breath hitches as I feel him rubbing against that spot inside me, the one every girl has, but not all men can find. Foxy found it our first time. It's the one thing he'll tell anyone if they ask him. The one point of pride he doesn't keep private. I can't blame him. I tell the girls everything. He's entitled to share a little bit. And what better thing to say, than that he can always satisfy his wife?

It's not long before speaking is an ability both of us only vaguely remembers. Our communication dips into grunts and moans and whines. Our bodies rub against each other, creating warmth from the friction, and sliding easily because of the sheen of sweat we both share. My tail is sodden with juices, and his balls slap against my rear, filling the room with the noise of a married, horny couple making sweet, unabashed love.

His length continues to tease my sweet spot, pleasuring me and making me pant for want of breath. I feel the first peak of the night approaching. I bite at his ear, and then muffle a scream against his shoulder as my body shivers and shutters in orgasm. He doesn't stop. He grunts some encouragement, a dirty little something that gets lost between us. I shiver and kiss at his neck, already feeling another climax approaching. "Dammit."

"Need me to stop?" he whispers, his voice breathy.

"No. Just keep going Fox." I rain kisses down on his cheeks, and he laughs and nips and licks at my neck without letting up. It's pure heaven. I know that there's not a man in the galaxy, the universe, hell, the multiverse, that could make me feel the way Foxy-Woxy makes me feel. From his rough and playful moments, to his tender, gentle, ministrations, he does everything in our lovemaking with reverence and compassion, worrying for my pleasure, and alleviating my pains, all while managing to be an assertive, utterly satisfying partner. As I ride out yet another orgasm, all I can do is clutch at him and whisper, "Love. Love you Fox. Love you Fox. Love. You."

Finally, after what could have been days or months or years, my body goes into such sensory overload that I push him off me. He stops, looking down at me, panting, and with this eyes full of knowing concern. It's not always like this. Normally I can handle him but...he's on fire tonight. I look up at him, watching a little bead of sweat collect on his nose and drop down onto my bosom, and then pull him back to me to resume our dance.

I lose myself in the moment, exulting in the ecstasy that he brings me. I can feel him through our bond, not clearly, not like I normally would, but I do feel him. Our auras mix, and I can feel the crackle of psionic energy that makes my eyes glow behind their lids. Right now, I don't know which one of us is feeling what. Am I on top? Is he? Am I the one moaning incoherently about how much I love him, or is he doing the same for me? Our emotions, our beings, become so mixed I'm not even sure we're two separate people. Tonight is just one of those nights.

Then I feel him tense. I feel his balls draw up close to him, and I feel his maleness throb inside me as he moans out my name. I squeeze him, holding him close as he fills me full of his essence. I tip my head back and moan. I love that feeling. Like always, I wonder for a moment if this is the one, if this is the time that our first child will be conceived. But then my conscious mind reminds me I didn't forget the contraceptive shot this month. No child this time. Maybe it would've filled me with a twinge of sadness, if not for the way he looks at me. He places a hand on my cheek ruff and kisses me, gently, softly, his love and his wonder flowing across our bond as my head starts to clear. He pulls away and, at the same time, we both say, "I love you."

We shift around, with him lying on his side, and me snuggling up in his arms, my tail dangling off the couch. Our noses aren't more than a millimeter apart. Our eyes meet, and I take a long, deep, dive into their bottomless depths. I can see myself in them, and I can feel him. Everything is raw and unfiltered, his mind still clawing its way back to lucidity after the dopamine high we both just experienced. All he can seem to think about is how lucky he is to have me. It almost makes me cry, because I know there are moments in the day, days in the week, where he wonders if he's enough for me, if our life is enough for us. I close that last millimeter of distance and brush my lips against his. He smiles and does the same. Not really a kiss, but about all I think we have the energy for right now.

I close my eyes and rest my nose in the crook of his neck. My tongue flicks out and tastes the salt of the sweat on his fur. I smile and nuzzle in deeper, and he wraps his arms around my back. His hands stroke my fur, reaching down to rub at the spot just above my tail, where I have a silly little tattoo I got years ago, back on Cerinia. Not every Cerinian tattoo has a deep meaning. That one was one I got for the hell of it, and to drive my parents mad. Katt calls it my tramp stamp. Foxy on the other hand prefers the term 'rebel cred'. "You like that one, don't you?" I whisper.

"Yeah." I hear the chuckle in his voice. "It's just so...you."

"Mmm." I smile. "My mother felt the same way. Father, on the other hand, had a fit. My mother said she had to tune him out for a week to avoid a migraine."

Fox chuckles aloud at that. "Naughty vixen." He reaches down and gives me a little spank on the behind. I grin and wiggle my arse playfully.

"I am that." We lie there for a little while, and I can feel my whole body going slack and free. I'm utterly relaxed. I'm here, in his arms, smelling his scent, feeling his warmth, and without a care in the world. A yawn comes over me, and the day finally starts to catch up to me. I keep fit, doing hours of physical training all day. Plus, team exercises in the simulators or the war games deck. Somehow though, I always have energy for this at the end of the day. Or in the middle of it. "Foxy?"

"Yeah?" I hear him suppress a yawn of his own.

"Are we gonna make it to the bedroom?" I ask.

"Uh uh."

My eyelids droop, and I snuggle in closer, if that were possible. "Okay." The last thing I feel is him reaching over me, beneath the couch, to pull the blanket we stash there out from its hiding place. He drapes it over us, and murmurs something facetious about this being the reason no one else will sit on this couch. I smile, and then sink into a happy, blissful, sleep.

A/N: In case anyone was wondering if I'd forgotten about these two...I've been doing loads of thinking about Fox and Krystal recently, sorta re-evaluating my characterizations and such, a healthy process I go through every couple years, and so this is the first fruit of that labor. It's smut. Of course it's smut. Did you really doubt it would be smut?

In all seriousness though, I've got a *ton* planned for these two. I am currently in-progress on a post-Adventures story right now, (details to come in the future), and I've got at least one other slated for after I'm done with that, before coming back around to James/Vixy.

In the meantime though, this little series will continue to be updated...I'm gonna say irregularly. But it's going to be a one shot compendium I *really* should have started years ago. Not all the one shots will be frisky and steamy (though there will be more of that) but they will all revolve around the Orange and Blue wonders. Oh, and not all of them will be in first person either.

That's all I've got for now though. I hope you guys enjoyed, and I hope you're looking forward to more Fox/Krystal in the future. I know I am.

-general whitefur